


A Morning on the Eastern Front

by njckle



Series: What Is a Man Without Beasts? [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dragon Corps, Dragons, Eastern Front, Gen, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 11:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11080521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njckle/pseuds/njckle
Summary: The Dragon Corps is disbanded.





	A Morning on the Eastern Front

**Author's Note:**

> For a friend because she wanted something with Newt during his time in the Corps.

One hit to the chest by a dragon tail could take a wizard out.

Newt groaned from his position on the floor.

He opened his eyes, waiting until the spots in his vision vanished and he could see the dusty ceiling of the cage. He blinked and a white canopy tinged gold with the morning sun extended out, shadowing him before folding back. A soft wind hit his face, carrying the scents of burnt grass and upturned dirt.

The ground trembled underneath him, heavy footsteps to his right and near his head, but he didn't worry. Instead, he took the time to gather his breath, kneading his sternum when each breath was followed by a tightness he knew shouldn't be there.

“Sorry for the scare,” he mumbled when he regained his composure, carefully rolling onto his side with a wince. There would surely be a bruise come morning. “I shouldn't have come in unannounced.”

The female Ironbelly snorted, a jet of flames shooting from her nostrils and singeing the sleeve of his uniform. She shook her head from side to side, considering him and his weak apology, before snapping her jaw closed, the click of her teeth sharp and indicating that he wasn't to be a meal today.

Her large size was evident as she made to lie down, the paleness of her scales and the jut of her shoulders making her appear as the peak of a snowy mountain, her spikes like a splatter of bare pines along a sloping hillside. Even with the dullness of metal surrounding her, marked with ash and mud and grime from many months of use, she stuck out, like a cold, shining star drowning in a sea of charcoal.

Newt waited until she settled on her side completely before getting to his knees, wincing when his back complained. The pain was slight enough he could ignore it, deal with it long enough to get into a small crouch. He snorted loudly, turning his head away and down, crawling forward with an awkward lope until he was in the dragon’s shadow. She ignored him, grunting, and he came closer still, slowly until he was able to touch her.

He pressed his forehead against her lower jaw, humming.

A long pause stretched out, the heavy puffs of her breath drowning out his and the sound of the world beyond the cage. Then, a long exhale.

Newt allowed himself a small smile. He was forgiven.

“How have you been?” he asked, reaching up to carefully press his fingertips to the more tender skin at the creases below her eye. From there he slid them along her rocky cheek, skipping past the spikes decorating her jawline, to the slightly more sensitive parts near her ear.

She rumbled, snorting a small burst of flames, but otherwise didn't move. Newt took it as an allowance to continue, and he trailed along her long neck, ducking under her foreleg, to the exposed scales of her chest. Her hide was too thick for her to feel him, so he knocked his knuckles against it to let her know where he was. Best let her not forget he was there and accidentally turn over and crush him.

“There we go…” He ran his hands along her underside, the edges of her scales rough against his hands, until he reached where her lower stomach swelled. He splayed his hands against her hide, the jumps of her heartbeat strong enough for him to feel. “It's about time, isn't it? Soon you'll have your hands full- a nest of your own.”

The dragon hummed, the sound reverberating beneath Newt’s palms. She dragged her head over to look at him with a half-lidded gaze, the _click_ of her second eyelid soft as she peered at him with one shining eye, an iris made out of rubies. He gazed at her through his peripheral, not quite meeting stare, and gave her a closed smile.

“A few weeks,” he surmised aloud. Maybe less, if he went by the pink coloring the edges of her scales. He dragged his nails down a few rows of scales and her hind leg jerked, close enough to nearly knock him down a second time. He heard a deep grumble.

A curve of the lips, wry and honest, formed at the sound. _Two weeks_ , he concluded.

Gently, he rubbed her underside, digging his nails between the scales higher above him and sweeping his fingertips in faint touches closer to her hip. Smoke trailed out of her nostrils and she closed both eyelids. He stopped fairly quickly, quirking his lips in an almost smile when she complained, staring at scales in front of him. He noted the way they reflected in the soft light shining from the rising sun behind him, how clean and healthy they looked, so different than the others he'd worked with.

“Two weeks and you’ll be away from here,” he said, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against her belly, uncaring that he was risking a minor burn. “You'll be in Ukraine with your eggs and live a happy life- I'll make sure of it.”

Newt looked beyond her horned head, frowning at the thick bars lined against the horizon. Around them, the camp was beginning to wake, the rough voices of early risers sounding out from tents in the west while the trenches in the east were silent.

The war was still going on, but the Corps was being dismantled. It was a relief and bothersome at once; the dragons would be released, as would he, but who was to say they wouldn't be brought back again. Newt had seen first hand how his kind treated magical creatures, used them for their gain and nothing more, and dragons could be useful in a war effort.

 _Good riddance_ , he'd heard in the passing.

For a moment he wondered if he'll be missed, but then it passed as thoughts along that caliber often did. He would leave and none would offer him a second glance, but that was alright. If it meant that he could rescue one more dragon from this wretched place- take them far away from a war that they have nothing to do with- then he was fine with being just a passing memory.

“We'll both be away from this place…”

The dragon hummed at his voice. She didn't understand, he knew; she didn't know about the arguments on her behalf, or even the penalties hashed out when he was discovered visiting her cage without a backup team. It wasn't her place to know such things, for what were such inquiries to a dragon and her hoard. Yes, she listened to him better than the other wranglers, let him be around her even as her pregnancy drew closer, but that was only because he listened to her. He payed attention to every warning grumble and each relaxed stretch, patiently inserting himself to her routine in the hopes of gradual acceptance.

If only he could understand humans as easily.

Newt sighed and thought, _Two weeks._


End file.
